


Professional Courtesy

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper
Kudos: 38





	Professional Courtesy

The world was a frightfully dreary place.

Moira did not keep up much with the news. Enough of it was simply repetition, and the rest didn’t seem to apply to her. But she knew enough about Talon to understand how the world received them, and what their actions meant to the world at large. She only had to look at Reaper or Widowmaker to understand the ‘image’ they were meant to portray.

Moira was not an agent by nature, however. Oh, she’d taken the work well enough. The effort of battle, the adrenaline rush of combat, it was stimulating in a primal, sexual sort of way. But going into battle was not the reason she woke in the morning, not the reason she scrubbed her hands raw and ignored meals and sleep. Her work was her life’s blood, and Talon was the single most important entity in the world merely because they allowed her to keep doing it.

She maintained her contacts in the Oasis, which often helped to give a certain balance to her thoughts. She had rejected their offer of a position, yes, but the remaining individuals with whom she spoke regularly would not betray her location. They told her the truth, as much as they were able, and she knew that in comparison to the relative peace and safety of the Oasis, her life seemed a much more thrilling, exciting feature. 

She considered this as she adjusted the microscope again, checking the label of the slide in front of her, and pressed a finger against the upper bridge of her nose as the results read the same. The same as they had for days now. 

Thrilling and exciting, indeed.

If she were at the facilities in Brazil, certainly, she’d be working more with her pack. Some of her prized accomplishments, the advancements she’d made with human biology--unfortunately, Reaper wouldn’t sit still long enough for her to continue her research with that specific vein of research. But this was the French outpost, one of Maximilien’s funded projects (she assumed) and the only things she had here were tissue samples, sequencers, and lab rats. It was better than nothing, especially as she had access to all her previous data, but it was tedious work. Talon didn’t like to give up any grunts to make room for lab assistants, and Moira ended up walking through each process step by excruciating step.

A shout echoed from a nearby hallway, and something large and loud thudded against a wall as Moira straightened. Her face bore no change of expression as she looked to the door, then returned to her work, putting the thought from her head.

Then there was him. Her newest neighbor. 

Reaper had been so  _ excited _ \--genuinely excited, it was almost frightening. Moira hadn’t expected to hear those higher, rising tones from the graveled Reaper, and it had unsettled her deeply. Reaper had been allowed to examine the ‘specimen’, as he had still been called, and he’d been thrilled by his discoveries.

He was like a puppy with a good pedigree: Siebren de Kuiper was outstanding in his field, with publications in dozens of journals, citations across the entire network of professional development, and at least three primary authorships in major research projects. The fact that he’d been chosen for the space station projects was a testament to his ability. Even checking with the Oasis, Moira had been surprised to find that the name ‘de Kuiper’ garnered some interest, and she’d spent several pleasant hours digging through the university libraries to get a proper understanding of Siebren de Kuiper’s experience. She would never have met him regularly--their fields were too disparate--but the routine of publication and research was familiar to her. He simply happened to do more math, while her work was more  _ practical _ . That was all.

Whatever he’d seen in space, however, it’d made him  _ barmy _ . It swarmed over him like a cloud of smoke, a wildness in his eyes that frightened rational beings. Unfortunately, Moira had found that much of Talon was  _ not _ rational, and men like Akande leaned close to Siebren, studied him and talked with him, as if his ravings were nothing more than a point of bad manners.

The man was throwing chalkboards at the wall again. Moira bared her teeth, running a hand through her hair in irritation, and backed away from the table before she took some equally drastic action. Days of work for  _ no  _ improvement in muscle development, and she had to work with this  _ lunatic _ next door.

Another shout--more pained this time, and not as muffled. Moira rubbed a hand against her eyebrow, trying to focus her thoughts, and finally came to the door to stare down the hallway. Even as she did so, a Talon guard stumbled out of another doorway, struggling to stand straight before fumbling for his gun.

“Put it away, soldier!” Moira called, leaning against the doorframe. Put a gun in someone’s hands, and they thought they could do anything… 

The helmeted man started, glancing to her in surprise, and Moira rolled her eyes. “You’re not allowed to hurt him, so don’t bother threatening.”

That blank, stupid face did nothing, up until it was sliding up toward the ceiling and tumbled back to the ground, the body bouncing once. Moira winced, tensing as another form appeared in the doorway with a predatory lunge like a jungle cat.

“You!” Siebren was loud. So very loud. 

“I am  _ trying _ to work!” 

“We can escape!” He called to her, glancing up and down the hallway. “Can you see it? Don’t you? The doors are open!”

“Siebren--” Moira sighed, forcing her shoulders to relax. “Yes. The doors are open.”

“There is! No! Siebren!” The man tumbled forward, advancing on her with his usual frenzy. Moira did begin to back away, straightening, but Siebren slowed as he neared the door of her laboratory and studied her more closely. “Sigma.”

“Sigma.” Moira repeated, nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, well.” He seemed distracted at that, following some other mote of dust as he avoided her eyes. “I didn’t. The doors. The doors are open.”

“The doors are  _ open _ , Sigma, because out of professional courtesy, we expect everyone to behave like  _ scientists _ , and not go around shouting like children in a candy shop!” Moira found her voice rising, matching his earlier tones of intensity. 

“Oh.” And with that, he seemed to shift. Something...clicked.

“You’re a scientist, Sigma.”

“They give me puzzles.”

“Oh, don’t they always.” Moira shook her head, turning to go back to her own fruitless efforts. “There is work to be done.”

“Moira.” Her name made her pause, and she returned to the door to find Sigma standing, no longer hunched or scrambling in his odd, animalistic methods. “Where are we?”

Moira hesitated, debating the wisdom of the response. “Southern France. Very near the border with Monaco.”

Sigma nodded slowly, seeming to consider the information with deep merit. “Yes. Yes. Well.” He’d seemed to have forgotten her--and the man he’d tossed against the ceiling--and Moira watched as he turned back and padded through to his own room. Moira waited several long moments, watching the guard return to his post, and finally stepped back into the laboratory to get back to her real work. Madmen and puzzles, indeed. 

The time passed slowly, if more profitably, as she continued processing her samples. Talon allowed her to have a number of concurrent projects on at once, and she was able to monitor even the more disobedient specimens by video. Without the thudding or shouting, Moira felt her mind wandering even as she went through the routine of sample preparation, handling the different subjects available to her, making her notes. It was peaceful, in its own way, but it felt uncomfortably like her days in university--without even music to interrupt the clicking of sensors or the beeping of monitors. 

“Moira.” 

She would never  _ jump _ in surprise at an interruption, but she would pause. Moira had to look up from the sample she held, replacing it on the table as she found Siebren watching her closely. No,  _ Sigma _ . Yes. 

“Sigma?”

He grinned sharply, a gleam in his eye as he leaned through the doorway. “I...forgot, for a time. We’re neighbors.”

“Is there a point to this visit, Sigma?”

He shrugged, straightening tall again. “Well. I’m simply thinking. The doors are open.”

“You’re remarkably fixated on that.”

“You’re a charming, beautiful woman. I am a man.” No unusual adjectives there, she noted. “And here we are, together, in the lovely south of France, and we are stuck  _ inside _ doing...what, exactly?”

“You have your work, equations to solve, I’m sure. And I have samples to organize--”

“No!” Sigma shook his head, clapping his hands together sharply. “Nonsense. I refuse to believe it.”

“Believe it.”

“No.” Sigma glided forward, coming up to Moira to reach for her wrist. Despite herself, despite everything, Moira allowed him to. He was...very warm. Very gentle. “I have another problem to solve, and the variables are easily controlled.”

“Sigma, what happened to the guard?”

“Southern France. It is a lovely, balmy afternoon. If we are extremely lucky--extremely,  _ extremely _ lucky--we might be able to find some wine. Moira. Consider.” He tugged her forward, and Moira allowed herself to be pulled. To be moved. His eyes were very intriguing, when he wasn’t shouting or throwing things. Perhaps that ‘frenzy’ wasn’t entirely his madness.

“Southern France, you say.” She smiled to him, moving around him to lead him to the door. At least they’d gotten him out of that ridiculous jumpsuit...he looked mostly normal now. And her work clothes were fine. She glanced into the hallway to see the guard’s legs poking out from Sigma’s room, and she couldn’t help it: she laughed aloud, tugging Sigma with her as she tracked her way down the hallway. 

“Sigma?”

“Mm!”

“Was I a variable?”

“Oh? Yes. Yes, you were.” He confirmed easily, keeping a tight hold of her hand as she led him forward. 

“Well. So we have solved one problem today.” Moira nodded, finding the corridor that would lead them to the exterior doors. 

Perhaps the world was not so disappointing and dreary after all.


End file.
